


Debts Cleared

by Cahaya (Tarlaith)



Series: Half A Future [2]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Aftermath, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - not everyone dies, Coping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 11:46:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10921170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlaith/pseuds/Cahaya
Summary: After the battle, Billy decides it's his turn to offer solace.(Sequel to "Borrow Me A Night")





	Debts Cleared

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, another Billy/Vas shot! They really wanted an encore.
> 
> Beta-ed by Random Interloper! <3

Rose Creek rises from the ashes like a phoenix. It's a glorious affair, at least once the wagons come in. And with them people desperate to catch the first glimpse at the history that happened here. Trappers, trackers, traders, bounty hunters and their prey alike, followed by women; the respectable in plain dresses, the not-so-respectable in colorful skirts. The richer the color, the lower the price. Their presence is appreciated, as it emphasizes the stardom _surviving_ has catapulted Rose Creek into among the tiny frontier towns. They were left to die two days ago. Now there are helping hands everywhere and everyone wants a piece of their victory.

Billy finds it all mind-numbingly tedious. If he were a phoenix, he'd rather be dead than tiny and weak again. What does future glory do you any good if you're going to be _used_ , all the way up until you fight free? He's so, so tired of fighting.

He's tired of their accidental glory as well. Townsfolk expressing their gratitude he can take: he worked with them and fought with them, it's a band of brotherhood no one else understands. Worrying doctors and Mrs. Emma are bearable. But talking and nodding along to people he doesn't know but wants to punch in the face already makes his fingers twitch. Even Faraday would look docile compared to some of the men who come to babble at him.

Only when the sun sets, the voices quiet at last, and Billy finds some much needed reprieve from the noise of the day.

The silence is a double edged blade. He craves it to cool what feels like raw nerves flaying right under his skin. But it makes the absence of Goodnight's voice even more obvious. Especially to Billy; Goodnight's chatter has been his focal point for a solid decade.

And even though Billy is pathetically glad Goodnight came back, seeing him, motionless and paler than the sheets, stings. Three bullet holes are a death sentence, and if Billy had known this was the price, he'd have maimed Chisholm to keep him from guilt-tripping Goodnight into coming back.

Billy sits on the edge of the bed and cups Goodnight's gaunt face with his palms. The move pulls on his half-mended ribs, making him wince. Carefully, he lowers himself to kiss the corner of Goodnight's mouth. The taste is sweet, like the honey and juices they have been feeding him to keep him alive.

“I have to go and pay back a debt,” Billy whispers, tracing Goodnight's brow with his thumb. “If you die while I'm not here, I'll never forgive you. I promise.”

Goodnight twitches a little, eyelids fluttering, and lies still again.

Billy pushes himself up to his feet, sways a little from the pain, and sneaks out the door. In the hallway, he doesn't turn to the stairs but to the other side. With each step his breathing feels lighter, more expectant and a little thrilled. He stops in front of Vasquez' room, straining his ears, but the night is void of sounds. He slips in and closes the door quietly, gradually letting up on the handle until the bolt clicks into place and he knows he's safe.

When he turns, he's face to face with the muzzle of a colt. After all that happened, it's enough to make him flinch.

Vasquez' stares at him with a sleepy gleam in his eyes, seconds ticking by until he recognizes Billy and lowers the gun.

“Don't do that, _chorlitejo_. I could've shot you.”

Billy wanders over unhurriedly, forcing a lazy expression to match the casual pace. Vasquez' eyes sweep his body, gaze catching on the edge of his bandages for a moment, before he graciously scoots over to allow Billy to settle on the edge of the bed. It's narrow enough that their hips brush.

“How the hell did we both fit in here?”

Vasquez chuckles, chest shaking with the sound of it. He's shirtless, the dressings on his arm clean, the wounds closed and healing. “Half of you here, half of me there?”

Before he can stop himself, Billy reaches to touch him, settling his fingertips on warm skin he hadn't had a chance to explore last time, too caught up in all the things he didn't want to see. Scars litter Vasquez' body, more than Billy would've expected. Someone as fast as him shouldn't have been hit this often. He's almost as thin as Goodnight was when Billy found him, all bones and flimsy muscles, just enough to hold on to life.

“Did he wake up?”

Billy runs his fingers through Vasquez' chest hair. It's not much, and softer than it looks. “Not yet.”

“Shouldn't you be keeping watch?”

“He won't miss me.”

“He always misses you.” Vasquez catches Billy's hand. “He wouldn't have come back if it was just _us_ here. Only you. Always you, _chorlito_. Feel loved, 'cause you are.”

“It was because of you that I was here for it,” Billy says quietly, tugging his hand free to slide it down.

“You're welcome. Now go back to your man.”

Instead of getting up, Billy traces the edge of Vasquez' black pants, his touch featherlight on warm skin, until his fingers find the fastenings.

“He would mind,” Vasquez warns. Despite that, his half-hard prick presses against the base of Billy's palm.

“And you won't?”

Vasquez snorts, wiggling his hips. “I'm not a saint.”

Lips twitching, Billy opens the buttons. Vasquez' cock springs out, flushed red from root to tip, curving upwards, flared head thick, growing further to enjoy its sudden freedom.

It makes Billy's mouth water. He slides the pants down and shoves them off, the bed small enough that Vasquez' bare feet hang off the end. They're covered up to the ankles in a crisscrossing pattern of fine white lines, each separated by a finger's width of unmarred skin, forming playing-card diamond shapes. Too neat to be accidents.

Something nasty spikes in Billy's belly, but he swallows it and instead moves up to kiss Vasquez' knee and his thighs, opening them without resistance. A bit surprised, he settles in between.

Vasquez' teeth glint in the darkness like the eyes of a cat, all spotlight danger. “You up for it, _chorlito_?”

Billy shivers a little, anticipation coiling in his belly, throbbing in his swollen cock. “Not me I'm worried about.”

He gets a laugh in reply, and it's so easy to nuzzle into Vasquez' dark curls, where his scent is strongest. Leather and saddle oil rubbed into his skin through the cotton, dust in the wrinkles not washed clean by beading salty sweat, the searing tang of gunpowder from where he wiped his hands on his pants. Nostrils flaring, Billy leans in to run his tongue up the side of Vasquez' cock until it bumps the head, and then up to the tip to push beneath the skin Goody doesn't have.

Vasquez hums appreciatively. His hands come up to stroke the side of Billy's face and he spreads his legs as far as possible without falling over the side of the bed.

Spurred on by this display of eagerness, Billy swallows down all he can take without choking himself, the whole head and a bit more.

“Fuck,” Vasquez curses, mashing his face into the pillow to muffle it.

The move alone has Billy chuckling, which makes Vasquez curse harder, face flushing and panting, mouth glinting wet from too much licking and reminding Billy of what's missing. Letting go of Vasquez' glistening cock, he crawls up his body, ribs be damned, to catch his lips and swallow the moans. He tastes like the tobacco he's so fond of, the chewing variant, overpowering and bitter. But the inside of his cheeks are sweet. Billy groans and draws Vasquez' lower lip between his teeth, finding it as soft and sugary as the canned peaches they shared after supper. He bites it, relishing the growl it gets him.

When he draws back, Vasquez' is looking at him through half-lidded eyes, spit shining on his lips. “Not a saint,” he reminds Billy, takes his hand and sucks two fingers into his mouth.

Billy groans and presses his face into Vasquez neck; the sensation of Vasquez' tongue swirling around his digits has his cock aching with need. It's over too soon, once they're liberally coated with spit, Vasquez guides his hand between his spread legs and Billy's suddenly stunned by how different this is. How different _Goody_ is. In bed, he'd either assume control or surrender himself to Billy's pace, not this in-between.

“Not with me, _chorlitejo_?”

Billy blinks, noticing that he's absently rubbing saliva into Vasquez' softening rim but not going further, and his cheeks heat. “Sorry.”

He presses a finger in, moaning a little at the fiery heat welcoming him that makes his cock throb. He stretches the muscle and Vasquez' body opens with practiced ease, making Billy wonder a little. Vasquez and Faraday had been close...

Vasquez moans and rolls his hips, throwing his head back with relish and drawing Billy's attention back to the present. He's less vocal than Goody, who'd already be begging in slurred half-French at this point, eyes glassy and thick drops of fluid running down his shaft. Vasquez is more relaxed, biting out a curse whenever Billy's fingers graze the spot inside him, but without demanding he go harder or hurry up. Billy loves Goody's begging, but taking his time to enjoy this is... nice. Also is not having to worry about unexpected company bursting in, drawn by the noise.

Billy gives the tiny bump a last little nudge and makes Vasquez swear in Spanish and tugs a bottle of oil from his pants. “Ready, Mexican?”

“Since last _year_.”

Billy smirks as he slicks his cock and slides in behind Vasquez' balls. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“I will.”

He pushes, lightly at first, until the muscle opens to the pressure and Vasquez groans, long and heartfelt, goading Billy into moving with little jerks of his hips. “Then _move, pendejo_. I'm not feeling it.”

Billy snorts, but thrusts into him as hard as he can without upsetting his wounds. “Try harder.”

He strokes up Vasquez' chest, stirring the hair, and leans in to suck a nipple, pressing his tongue against the hard little nub. The other he rubs with a thumb, using his free hand to squeeze Vasquez' cock – a move that would have Goody going off in the span of a few needy whimpers.

Vasquez moans, hole fluttering so good, but catches him. “In such a hurry, _cariño_?”

Their faces are close enough for Billy to feel the heat in Vasquez' cheeks, the blush burning down his neck, half-obscured by the beard. His eyes are glazed over, sweat beading on his forehead. He presses a kiss to Billy's temple, open mouthed, almost a bite. “We have time.”

They do. Billy draws back a bit, takes a breath without stopping. The room around them is cooler than the space between them, it clears his head. A reminder that it doesn't have to be quick, needy, or full of begging. The thought is an aphrodisiac on its own and Billy leans down to keep licking all the skin he can reach.

Vasquez hums and arches his back. In the darkness, Billy can't make out the almost faded bites that had been vibrant in the days before the fight, and a painful reminder afterward. He kisses every spot he remembers and Vasquez tangles his fingers into Billy's hair, but doesn't pull him away.

They rock together in the thin, humid space they have created between them, the room heating up from their moist breath and sweating bodies. Neither notices. They're locked in a world only for the two of them, right here and now. And with a lover who won't allow himself to be hurt with carelessness, Billy lets go.

He burrows his face in Vasquez' neck to taste the salt and stubble of his beard, his harsh breath pulsing against his tongue. Vasquez grunts and clutches at him, rutting against Billy's belly, who bears down to give him friction. He moans when Vasquez shudders, the vibrations traveling all the way down his body.

His hips twitch, the hard thrusting growing fast and frantic, as Vasquez muffles his cry in Billy's shoulder. Hot wetness pulses against Billy's belly, slicking the glide and slapping of their bodies. Over the noise, Billy almost misses Vasquez' whisper.

“Come on. Show me what you got.”

Billy whines, body spasming out of control. For a brief second of bliss, the world goes black around him.

He's plastered against Vasquez' body when he comes to, their skin sticky from sweat and cum. His cock has softened and slipped out of Vasquez' fiery heat, but Billy doesn't want to move. He wants to stay like this, soaking up the feeling of skin on skin, the lazy stroking of Vasquez' fingertips on his back.

Breathing deeply, Billy closes his eyes. “Can I stay?”

“He'll wake up soon.”

There's something odd to his tone. Billy squints, but Vasquez isn't looking at him. On the nightstand, a broken peacemaker rests on an oily piece of cloth. Startled, Billy recognizes Ethel. Or what's left of her. Half of a gun... half of a woman.

Half of a future.

Billy presses his lips to Vasquez neck, heart heavy as he remembers the one who _won't_ wake up. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably end in Goody/Billy/Vasquez some time in the future, lol.
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)


End file.
